


Past Of Mordred, Knight Of Treachery

by KnightOfBalance



Series: Mordred And Arturia [1]
Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abusive Parents, Backstory, Child Abuse, Fanon, Hurt No Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 16:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21102758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightOfBalance/pseuds/KnightOfBalance
Summary: Ever wondered what life was like for the Saber Of Red before she became a member of the Round Table? Well, don't expect sunshine and rainbows from the Fairy Witch...





	Past Of Mordred, Knight Of Treachery

_Cold. _

_Damp. _

_Dark._

The workshop of a magus was never a pleasant place. And the workshop of Morgan Le Fay, the Fairy Witch, was an exceptionally so. Far away from civilization and resting beneath the earth, it was a horrible place fit only for a traitor whose cruelty and malice knew no end.

Which was why young child Mordred hated it so much. She hated being cramped in the tight rooms and narrow corridors. She hated how the air stuck to her skin. She hated how the only light was some dim magic torches placed sporadically across the workshop. She hated the smell of rotting flesh and rancid blood that permeated through the place. She hated the rough floors that hurt to sit or walk barefoot on.

Though it was where she was born, Mordred hated the place.

_ **^Creak^** _

“Your food.”

Mordred looked up from her bed to see the face of her mother bearing down on her. Later in life, she would hear that face was beautiful and attractive. She would never understand why. That pale skin on the verge of death, that long bleach-like hair that gave her an inhuman glow, those freezing blue eyes and scowling red lips. It was the very definition of frightening. The woman flung a plate of lumpy mashed potatoes and gray bread onto the ground before shutting the door behind.

The young girl scampered from her bed and to the food, scooping up the potatoes and tearing the meat with her bare hands. Truth be told, she was sick of meal after meal of nothing but bread and potatoes. But she knew it wouldn't help to complain. Mother would either ignore her or, if she was in one of her moods, withhold a meal as punishment.

Mordred would just have to make do.

_-**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-**_

_"Mother, who is Arturia?"_

She didn't know what she did wrong. She had heard the name muttered a few times in Mother's foul moods before. She thought, perhaps, if she knew the source of her mother's anguish she could help. Perhaps, she could make Mother happy.

It was a fool's mistake, however. Her eyes glowed bright with power and rage, she grabbed ahold of her hair and threw her into her room. From there, she felt the workshop shake and shutter from her mother's wrath. Later, she heard Mother teleport from home and return with someone screaming. From then on, Mordred tried to ignore the echoing sounds of flesh being torn, bones being broken and rearranged and the eerie chants of Mother casting her magic. The sounds died in the middle of the night, only to be replaced by the empty groans and grunts of what she would later find out to be one of her mother's thralls. 

After that, her stomach growling at her for a dinner she missed, Mordred went to sleep resolving to never bring up the subject ever again.

_-**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-**_

An older child Mordred grinned and laughed as she basked in the freedom of the open woods and shinning sun. Mother was currently retrieving materials nearby for one of her experiments and allowed the child to roam as she gathered the materials. And it was perhaps the best day of her life at that point. The air didn't stick to her skin, the sun made everything so bright and warm, the grass felt so soft in comparison to the hard stone floors. And there wasn't a hint of flesh or blood in the air. She raced through the trees, chased the various wildlife and climbed up trees so she could feel the sunlight on her face.

These pleasures did not last, as Mordred soon learned when, upon cornering a squirrel to play with, a small, thin stone spike flew through the side of the creature's skull and killed it instantly. Mordred looked to her side and met her mother's cold gaze. “We're leaving,” She commanded, dragging a sack behind. Mordred kept still, making Morgan stop. She gazed back behind at her, looking mildly annoyed. “I said, we're leaving.”

Mordred cowered under her eyes and words but still stood her ground. “Mother...may I please stay outside.”

“Hrm.”

“I-I promise I won't wander too far away!” She pleaded, “I'll make sure no one sees me too! And it's not like you ever need my help anyw-”

“We. Are. Leaving.” Morgan repeated, her icy tone and flared eyes making it certain what her answer was. The girl shivered and nodded as she glumly followed her mother back down into the horrible place they called home.

_ **-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-** _

A time of firsts it was for Mordred, as she and her mother snuck into the walls of Camelot to witness the return of the King, Arthur Pendragon.

They stood in the dark space between houses, dressed in dark cloaks as to avoid being seen. They watched as the members of the Round Table returned after a successful mission, earning them cheers from the crowding citizens as they walked by.

Even at a glance, one could tell the group was a noble and strong bunch. A blond man in regal black clothes who smiled at the cheering citizens. A man with long red hair, as peaceful as the grave. A purple haired man who simply kept a bright smile on his face. But most noteworthy of all was the one in front of them all, a man in clad in gleaming armor and royal blue clothes, blonde hair wrapped in a graceful bun and a face like those of the statues Mother's book often spoke of. Him most of all received the people's adoration and attention, every single citizen making their gratitude known as they hollered out one name.

"Arthur...Pendragon?"

"Yes," Mother confirmed, her cold voice belying the energized hatred beneath, "That is who you should strive to be. For she will be the one you must slay."

_'Slay?' _Mordred repeated in her head. Why would she need to kill the King? He was adored by his people, they clearly loved him dearly. Unlike Mother, who she assumed would strike fear and panic in them if anyone saw them.

And just unlike Mother, she didn't feel scared or vulnerable when looking upon the King. No, she felt...peaceful, as though the King would mean her no harm.

Surely, someone like that couldn't be bad right?

_ **-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-** _

"Don't run off." 

Mordred nodded at her mother's orders. The woman didn't give an indication she noticed as she left Mordred in the alleyway, off to gather more materials. Though, she quickly got bored and started looking around the alleyway for some kind of entertainment. As she did, two other kids roughly around her age ran down the alley and bumped straight into her.

"Ow!' Mordred complained as she fell onto the ground. She got up and turned around at the kids who ran into her. "Watch where you're going!"

"Well sorry! We didn't see you there." One of the kids, a black haired boy, rolled out, "Next time, don't get in the way of an enemy of King Arthur!"

"Arthur?" Mordred's eyes widened, remembering the noble figure she had witnessed months before, "What kind of enemy does he have?"

"You know, dragons, demons, witches!" The other kid, a smaller brown haired boy cheered, enchanting Mordred even further.

"Does King Arthur really fight dragons?" She inquired further, feeling her heart begin to beat excitedly.

The two kids went on to inform her of the adventures of King Arthur, of how he slew the evil king Vortigen (another name Mordred swore she heard Mother utter in one of her moods) to saving villages from the invading Saxons to even taking down a real live dragon in the mountains. And as she absorbed deed after deed, Mordred felt her admiration for the king grow deeper and deeper as his bravery and strength seemed to match his inhuman appearance and aura.

Alas, the kids got bored and ran off, waving goodbye as she stayed behind for her mother. But she was no longer bored, as she recounted the adventures she was told giddily. The king was so amazing, she wished she could find a way to meet him without Mother's interference-

"Ahem."

Mordred snapped out of her thoughts and looked up at her mother, now holding some strange looking metal objects in had. "Mother, what are those?"

"They're your equipment," Mother informed dryly, "If you're to become a member of the Round Table, we must begin your training."

The name brought forth the image of her previous object of admiration "The Round Table? Does that mean I'm going to meet King Arthur?"

"Of course, you foolish child," She snarled, "How else will you slay him?"

"But, why can't you do it Mother?"

The witch's eye twitched at the questioning, making her flinch. "I simply cannot do so. Now that's enough talking."

She turned away and began walking while Mordred raced to keep up, secretly brimming with happiness. As judging from what her mother said, not only would she be able to meet King Arthur but she would be fighting alongside him without her mother's rage tainting the image she could make.

Mordred was so happy she didn't even mind being forced to give her mother 'materials' for her experiements later.

_ **-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-** _

Morgan and the now pre-teen Mordred materialized, with Mordred stumbling to the ground and vomited. She found that Mother's teleportation spells often made her nauseous and disoriented but it was a discomfort she had to deal with, as they couldn't perform her training anywhere near their home, lest the King's men find them. Instead, Mother teleported them to various locations and enacted her training there.

“Get up.” Mother commanded. A command that, despite still feeling unwell, Mordred obeyed. She took in their surroundings, a cold dead forest surrounding them in the middle of night, as she walked across the opening. She turned to face her mother, who was currently rummaging through a sack that she had brought with her. Morgan pulled a stone statue of a snake, no bigger than her head.

With a single line of incantation, she threw the statue into the air. It grew and expanded in mid flight until it landed as a ten foot long serpent. With glowing yellow eyes, the serpent swayed up and roared. Mordred, a single broadsword in hand, yelled out her own battlecry and leaped to the serpent. Her blade sliced across armor-like scales while the snake snapped at her. Mordred withdrew, just barely dodging the bite, before rushing in again to stab the serpent's head. The animated statue thrashed about, Mordred hanging onto the hilt of her sword until she was sent flying through one of the dead trees.

Mordred groaned, still feeling the shock of hitting tree while Mother called out. “You idiot! Why did you not use your Mana Burst to escape?”

She shambled up back to her feet, eye the sword now stuck into the serpent's skull. The thing lunged at her again, this time she tried to pour her mana into her legs and jump. Sadly, her attempt failed and all she accomplished was not getting eaten as she fell and crashed into the snake's scales, bouncing off with a thud. Mordred rose back up to her feet, the snake rose as well and glowered at her while Mother cried out.

“Now listen here, you defect! If you honestly think that you can kill the King with skills like those, you may as well make yourself useful and feed yourself to that serpent!”

The witch's words echoed in her ears as she looked back up at the serpent. She remembered that strong, noble figure she had seen in from the shadows months ago, right before she started training. The figure of King Arthur, a proud and mighty knight. Mordred clenched her fist in determination as she glared up at her blade, still stuck in her opponent's flesh. There was no way the king would lose to such a pathetic creature and as God as her witness, she wasn't gonna either!

The magical creature's eyes narrowed and lunged once more at Mordred. But, instead of jumping or dodging, Mordred clenched her fist as hard as she could and punched the serpent's head, raw mana bouncing off of her while the blow stopped it in it's tracks. She then grabbed her sword, plunged it deeper into the reptile and started carving through the head, down the the trunk and through the tip of the snake, roaring all the way. The snake whipped about in agony until it froze in mid thrash petrified and crumbled into dust.

Mordred smiled proudly at the dust that was once her opponent, kicking and laughing at it. She swung around, boasting “Did you see that Mother, I nearly cut in two!” Alas, the only response she got was a disappointed frown as Mother animated another animal statue, this time a wolf the size of a house. She sighed, raising her sword to meet her next opponent.

Mordred should have known better. She was never impressed with her accomplishments. It was always just training, training, training without even a smile. But it didn't matter. Because deep down in her heart, she knew.

The king would have been proud.

_ **-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-** _

With the last monster becoming still, Mordred withdrew her sword from the chimera and wiped the sweat from her brow. Any day now and she knew, she could go and make Mother proud in the Round Table. Maybe, just maybe she could bring her peace of mind and they could have a happily life together.

Mother burned the corpses and teleported them home. She leaded Mordred back to her room before walking off to make dinner. As soon as her clacking heels were out of sight Mordred turned towards the wall beside her bed.

The darkness made it seem like the wall was ordinary and unremarkable but Mordred knew better, She took the one magic torch lighting the room and held it close to the wall, revealing several crude stick drawings carved into it. Since she didn't have a diary or anything to write on, Mordred took to carving her memories into the wall. She removed her gauntlet and traced her finger over the vague image of a man on a horse, her carving of the king. Mordred smiled as it was still among the fondest memories she had. Then, with the dagger she kept hidden under her bed, the knight began to carve a scene of her slaying the chimeras.

It took over thirty minutes to make the image but it was finally done and just in time to hear her mother's footsteps. Mordred place the torch back onto the wall and re-hide her dagger just before Mother pushed open the door with two plates of food in hand. She looked at her for a moment before handing her one of the plates

Mordred looked down at the plate,then back up at Mother. She usually just tossed the food onto and left. Did...did she want to eat with her? Mordred's eyes lit up and she gladly took the food from her. She scarfed down the food, ignoring how odd the potatoes tasted, before finishing with a satisfied burp. She looked to the other woman, her happy mood dying in her throat.

Mother stared at her with a look of restrained anticipation, the same look she gave to her experiments as she awaited what would happen. All she could say was “Mother-?” before her throat clenched up and her stomach started to burn. Mordred gasp and wheezed as she struggled to stay standing, her vision blurring and fading while her the burning feeling in her stomach spread through her body. She stumbled back and tried finding something, anything to hold onto before her legs gave out. She was on the verge of passing out from the pain as she reached out to the woman who poisoned her.

“M-M-Mom, please...”

…

A few hours later, Mordred awoke from her dreamless sleep on one of the tables of her Mother's main work station. She could barely move her limbs, having lost all strength in them. So all she could do is lay and listen to her mother recording her findings.

“The poison seemed to have been effective in disabling the homonculus and causing a great deal of pain. But in the end, the poison lacked the potency necessary to be fatal. I should adjust the mixture to compensate for Arturia's stronger body...”

Tears welled up in Mordred's eyes and she didn't even have the strength to hold them back or wipe them away. As much as it broke her heart, this was the simple truth.

_Mothers didn't care for their kids._

_-**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-**_

“Under no circumstances are you to remove that helm in front of others.”

Mordred nodded at her instructions. It was finally time. They stood a mile outside the glorious city of Camelot, Mother giving her final instructions before sending Mordred off to join the Round Table. The pale witch drew a scroll from her robes and handed it to her agent. “Then proceed to the King's castle and hand them this. They shall accept you into their ranks. I will contact you when the time is right.”

“Right Mother.”

“Hm, well try not to get yourself killed before then.” With that parting shot, Morgan warped away, leaving the knight all alone. She looked down at the scroll with scorn. Mordred would join the Round Table, but not for the sake of a woman who never cared for her. She'll join in the name of King Arthur, the man she respected.

And with that, Mordred began walking toward Camelot; her new, and hopefully,better home.


End file.
